


Home, by the Fireplace

by b_ofdale



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adoptive Father-Son Relationship, Bonding, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:51:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8893135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_ofdale/pseuds/b_ofdale
Summary: “Elrond will come and find you soon enough,” Maglor said. He was back to working on his instrument. “Be kind, when he does—he only means the best.” or Winter is harsh on Maedhros, and Elrond tries to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laerthel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laerthel/gifts).



> Here's my Tolkien Secret Santa gift for [ten-summoners-fail](http://ten-summoners-fails.tumblr.com)! I hope you'll enjoy it, I had a great time writing this little thing! :D
> 
> Many thanks to my buddy [Iza](http://piyo-13.tumblr.com) for the editing! 
> 
> (sorry for the shitty title, I might change it if I come up with another one)

“Are you alright?”

Maedhros looked up from the flames to see Elrond standing not far from the fireplace. He was barefoot and his hair hung loose over his shoulders. In his hands he held one of the figurines Maedhros carved when he couldn’t find sleep; the twins sometimes managed to save one or two of them before Maedhros put them in a basket and used them as fuel for the fire.

Through the window the sun had started to rise from its slumber, bathing the room in the pale light of the early morning. 

“I’m fine,” said Maedhros. His left hand closed over his stump—the cold had been, and still was, particularly harsh on him today. Winter had never been this harsh in all the years they’d spent here. 

Maedhros stood, and turned his back on the boy. “It’s still early—you should go back to bed,” he added.

“I’m not tired,” Elrond replied. He appeared by Maedhros’ side, and peered up at him. His eyes were big and curious and bright. It’d been long now, since all fear had disappeared from them; it was something Maedhros wasn’t sure he deserved, and he knew Maglor felt the same. But they’d lie if they said they weren’t thankful for it. 

“Help me with breakfast, then,” he instructed, and he led the way to the kitchen. Already he regretted leaving the warmth of the fireplace.

He didn’t mind the cold, he never had, but his stump did, and after his long years on the walls of Thangorodrim he’d missed warmth more than he’d thought he ever would. 

Maedhros shook his head, sending the memories of that painful time to a corner of his mind, to haunt him at another time—later that day, certainly, and when sleep wouldn’t take him he’d get out of bed and carve a few more of these figurines Elrond and Elros loved so much.

He glanced to the one Elrond held in his hand. It was an ugly thing, really, one of the first he’d made—carving wasn’t an easy task with only one hand to hold the knife, and a stump and his knees to keep the wood in place. Yet Elrond seemed to like it much, for he was rarely parted from it.

“Why do you keep it?” Maedhros asked, nodding to the figurine. It was supposed to be an Eagle, but it sure didn’t look like one. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered to keep trying—perhaps because, deep down, he liked to see the twins playing with something that came from him. “I could make you another one.”

“No, I like this one,” Elrond said, holding up the figurine at eye level, and then murmured, “It looks like a swan.”

Entering the kitchen, Maedhros didn’t answer, clenching his fist for a second. He put some water to boil, and he tried to forget both the pain in his heart and his stump. Behind him he heard Elrond put the figurine on the table, before the boy appeared by his side once more.  
“Does it hurt?” he asked. He was looking at Maedhros’ stump, which Maedhros was now holding against his stomach. 

“No,” Maedhros answered, knowing well Elrond knew the answer; it wasn’t the first time Elrond asked him this question, and Maedhros often wondered why Elrond cared to ask so much—it wasn’t like there was much he could do about it. 

Letting go of his stump, Maedhros took the bread out of the cupboard, and placed it on the table.

“You’re lying,” Elrond flat out said.

Maedhros sighed. “Winter is harsh on such wounds,” he admitted. “I’m used to it now, you need not worry.”

While the water boiled Elrond said nothing and kept setting the table. When Maedhros glanced at him he saw Elrond seemed concentrated on his thoughts. 

Maedhros poured himself a cup of tea, but just as he was about to offer one to Elrond, the boy grasped his figurine, a chunk of bread, and a piece of cheese, before running to the door, a somewhat determined light in his eyes.

“Elrond?” Maedhros called, a steaming cup still in his hand.

But Elrond had already disappeared in the shadows of the hallway, leaving Maedhros, brows furrowed, to wonder what had come over him. 

Maedhros didn’t see Elrond until later that day, when Maedhros came home from a cold hunt. He hadn’t seen Elrond in time to hide the grimace that had taken over his face, and the young Elf had run away once more. 

It went like this for a few more days, leaving Maedhros confused; but he didn’t try to catch Elrond and ask him what he was up to, nor ask why he acted in such a way. Truth was, Maedhros wasn’t worried; there was nothing in Elrond’s behavior that showed he was upset or in need of any kind of help, and so Maedhros wouldn’t intervene. 

However when the seventh day came, Maedhros’ curiosity had reached peaks he didn’t think himself capable of anymore. Whenever Maedhros crossed Elrond’s path, he would grin up at him like Maedhros himself had done when he was a child preparing a surprise for his father. 

On the few occasions when the four of them ate together, Elrond would whisper to Elros’ ear, who rolled his eyes. Maglor would exchange a look with his brother, which he would brush off with a quick shake of his head. 

Maedhros was patient, but as he didn’t know what he was waiting for, one evening he eventually came to find Maglor in his room. His brother was adjusting the strings of an instrument he’d been working on for months now, and he barely looked up when Maedhros stopped before him.

“Elrond has been acting strangely lately,” Maedhros said.

A short laugh came rumbling out of Maglor, as though he was amused. “Has he?” 

“You’ve noticed,” Maedhros stated. “Do you know what’s this all about?”

“He hasn’t stopped asking about plants and medicine,” Maglor told him, and the corner of his mouth was slightly turned upwards, though his eyes didn’t leave the strings. “He’s been running between his room and the gardens a lot today.”

Maedhros’ brows furrowed. “What for?”

“He wouldn’t tell me,” said Maglor. “But I believe he wants to help.”

It took no more for Maedhros to put the pieces together; after that morning, Elrond _did_ want to help, and he was even enthusiastic about it.

“Why would he?” Maedhros murmured, almost to himself.

Maglor shook his head, putting the instrument down on his lap. 

“The boys like you, and they feel you’re growing fond of them,” Maglor said, and his voice was gentle. At last he looked up to meet Maedhros’ eyes. “You three are more similar than you think—neither of you shows it clearly, but _I_ do see it.”

Maedhros opened his mouth to answer, but decided against it, and said nothing. Instead he bowed his head, and closed his eyes, breathing in, before opening them again.

“Elrond will come and find you soon enough,” Maglor said. He was back to working on his instrument. “Be kind, when he does—he only means the best.” 

Maedhros nodded. “I know,” he said. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have been unkind to a child. 

Maedhros left the room then, to wander his thoughts until night came.

It only took two more days for Elrond to find him, as Maglor had said. 

That night was another harsh one, similar to the others in many ways; it was so cold outside that the chill easily found its way inside, and before midnight came, Maedhros was already in front of the fire, a chunk of wood on his lap and a knife in his hand. 

Maedhros heard Elrond come in before he saw him. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Maedhros asked as he sculpted the wood. He didn’t know what he was trying to create—he never did. 

“I finished it.” Though it was low, and perhaps just a bit shy, there was pride in Elrond’s voice. 

Maedhros detached his eyes from the wood. Elrond stood in the doorway, his figurine under one arm and a tin in his other hand. 

With a gesture of his arm Maedhros invited him to come in, and sit before him. 

Elrond did so in silence, but Maedhros saw how he tried to hide his smile.

“It’s for you,” said Elrond once he was seated on the floor, legs crossed. Obviously biting the inside of his cheek, he held up a tin, from which a pleasant smell came. “It’s a balm for your stump. Elros helped a little, too—he didn’t want me to tell you, but I don’t want to take all the credit.” Then he looked down and said, “It should make it hurt less, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

It wasn’t the first time Elrond showed kindness to him, for his soul was a good one—but never had he gone to such lengths. Maedhros knew not what to say as he took the tin from Elrond’s hands, and opened it.

Maedhros took a deep breath. Even if it didn’t work, it would be alright—he’d never hoped for anything like this, it hadn’t even ever crossed his mind, and the simple intention meant more to him than he would ever admit.

“Thank you,” Maedhros said. He was heavily aware of Elrond’s gaze on him as he put wood and knife aside, to bury two fingers in the balm. He then covered his stump of it, massaging the ruined skin until it disappeared. 

Maedhros heaved out a sigh of relief. Time would tell if Elrond’s balm had any effect, but the sensation was a soothing one.

When he looked back to Elrond, the young Elf was smiling. He glanced to the wood left by their side, which didn’t escape Maedhros. 

“Do you want to make one?”

Elrond nodded vigorously.

“What do you want to do?”

Elrond seemed to think hard for a second, before his face lit up, and he said, “An Eagle.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! <3
> 
> Kudos are very much appreciated, and comments make me the happiest writer on Earth! Thank you so much for reading!
> 
>    
>  **Find me on Tumblr[here](http://barduil.tumblr.com)!**


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